To regain his poise, Vic tugged at his belt and felt the weight of the holster slipping into a more convenient place, then he sauntered up the aisle, sweeping off his sombrero. Every feeling in his body, every nerve, disappeared in a crystalline hardness, for it seemed to him that the air was surcharged by a secret something between Betty and young Hansen. Betty was out from behind her desk and she ran to meet him and took his hand in both of hers. The rush of her coming took his breath, and at her touch something melted in her.
“Oh, Vic, are you all through?”
Gregg stiffened for the benefit of Hansen and Tommy Aiken.
“Pretty near through,” he said carelessly. “Thought I'd drop down to Alder for a day or two and get the kinks out. Hello, Blondy. Hey, Tommy!”
Tommy Aiken flashed a grin at him, but Tommy was not quite sure that the rules permitted speaking, even under such provocation as the return of Vic Gregg, so he maintained a desperate silence. Blondy had picked up his hat as he returned the greeting.
“I guess I'll be going,” he said, and coughed to show that he was perfectly at ease, but it seemed to Vic that it was hard for Blondy to meet his eye when they shook hands. “See you later, Betty.”
“All right.” She smiled at Vic—a flash—and then gathered dignity of both voice and manner. “You may go now, Tommy.”
She lapsed into complete unconsciousness of manner
